


The Witcher Reunited

by strangeandwonderfulconcepts



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, back from the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:42:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22168057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeandwonderfulconcepts/pseuds/strangeandwonderfulconcepts
Summary: After a month of mourning your death, you make a reappearance in Geralt of Rivia’s life.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Arthas Menethil/Jaina Proudmoore/Varian Wrynn/You, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 314





	The Witcher Reunited

The torches flickered brightly along the wall, cascading shadows down the brick and over your feet as you walked down the corridor. A guard to your left offered a half-bow. The kind that you had come to expect as a mage; half out of courtesy and half out of fear. You offered a nod in return and continued down the hall, your feet practically floating in your haste.

Your hands tightened as your heart pounded loudly in your ears. It nearly drowned out the sound of the feast, music playing brightly and feet tapping on a stone floor. You could hardly believe that you were only seconds away from seeing him. 

The last month had been the most excruciating of your life. A painful and slow recovery from your injuries. Your magic weak and useless, hardly able to levitate a feather let alone reach out to Geralt. 

—

Geralt frowned as Jaskier played the opening notes of a song he wished had never been written. The pit in his stomach gnawed at him as the music began and Jaskier’s voice was clear and echoing in the throne room. 

_The Battle of the West,_

_A tale of death and woe,_

_Would be the witcher’s test,_

_Against an immortal foe._

Geralt’s hand tightened on his goblet, threatening to dent the thin metal. Images of fire and the smell of burning flesh filled his mind as the bard sang. Briefly, Geralt considered throwing the drink at his head to end the music. 

_A witcher and mage, side by side,_

_Homes ablaze and death in the air,_

_The destruction more than a mile wide,_

_By the time they reached its lair._

Lair was an understatement, Geralt thought. It was a hole in the side of the mountain. The vampire’s skin so pale that it was translucent and its teeth resembling a rat’s. It hissed like one when he had plunged the stake into its heart. 

He had been so distracted that he’d never seen the female approaching. Or the dagger in its hand. 

—

You had to slow your breathing. The panicked movement was making the tender spot between your ribs ache. You leaned your head against the wall just shy of the throne room, trying to calm yourself. You felt betrayed by your reaction; you were excited to return to Geralt, not terrified. And yet your heart was threatening to burst from your chest.

You knew what you feared and you knew it was ridiculous. But it was impossible to ignore the image in your head. Walking into the room and seeing Geralt with a woman by his side. Staring at her like the way you remembered him looking at you. Those serious eyes intent and focused on your face. The way that if you tried long and hard enough, the corners of his mouth would start fighting to quirk up.

You were drawn out of your memories by the sound of a voice, which you quickly recognized as Jaskier’s, loud and bright coming from the throne room.

_The witcher drew first blood with hand on stake,_

_But he did not see the hidden face,_

_For the vampire’s mate revenge did take,_

_And the mage fell in death’s embrace._

Your head swam with memories. The vampiress’s cold touch on your throat contrasting with the heat of the knife in your chest. Pain and poison spreading like wildfire through your veins. The lost look on Geralt’s face as he held you through your last stuttering breath. 

You flinched like his pain was your own. You could still hear Jaskier’s voice pleading with him, saying that they had to go. Things get so hazy after that. 

—

Geralt was at his wit’s end. Jaskier had promised not to play the song in his presence but at the first request of a guest, he had his lute in hand. He had not wanted to attend the feast in the first place, and that again was Jaskier’s fault. 

_The mountain began to tremble and fall,_

_Unable to save his one true love,_

_Witcher and bard fled before the stones could claim all,_

_And the mage forever lost, I sing in memory of._

Geralt pushed himself away from the table with a loud screech. But the noise was lost in the applause for Jaskier who, unsurprisingly, soaked it up like a dandelion in spring. How could he be expected to sit there and make niceties when all he could think about was holding her lifeless body in his arms while the world crumbled around him.

He came around the corner in a rush, barely noticing the figure in the hall until he crashed into it. 

The world seemed to turn on its axis as Geralt looked into her eyes. 

—

You sensed him only a moment before he knocked into you, proving just how distracted you were. Warm hands caught your shoulders, gripping so tightly that your bones ached in protest. Geralt stared at you with wide eyes as he whispered your name in a breathless rush. 

A shudder passed through you at the sound of his voice, making your toes curl in your stockings and a smile flash over your face. 

“Things never seem to go according to plan with you,” You murmured. “I was going to make a grand entrance and here you come stumbling into me in a dark corridor.”

You watched as Geralt raised a shaking hand to your face. He moved so slowly that you struggled to stand still, bouncing once on the balls of your feet. Finally, his palm rest on your cheek. He exhaled sharply. 

“How is this possible?” He whispered. 

“Magic, my love,” You leaned into his touch, the same smile on your face. 

“Magic?” Geralt’s eyebrows drew together. 

“Maybe some bandages and rest,” You shrugged. You longed to touch him. Your hands were trembling with the need. To feel his hair between your fingers. His heartbeat strong under your palms as they roved over his chest. But you knew the moment you began, you would never be able to stop.

“Where were you? I don’t understand?” Geralt’s voice raised several octaves even as his thumb rubbed over your cheek gently. 

“I will explain everything,” You said, equally soft. “But not here.”

“Fine, fine,” He said gruffly. “But now.”

You laid your hand overtop of Geralt’s. 

“Now,” You agreed. 

The portal took only seconds to conjure and Geralt clasped your hand tightly in his as he pulled you through it. Despite the numerous times you both had traveled this way, it took a moment for both of you to steady yourselves. Before you could find your footing, you were crushed to Geralt’s chest. 

His cheek was heavy on your head and his arms too tight around you, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the smell of him in your nose and the warmth that came off his body in waves. He was solid and sturdy against you and for the first time in a moon’s cycle, you felt like you were home again. 

“I still can’t fathom that you’re real,” Geralt mumbled into your hair. 

“I am,” You buried yourself further into him. It was impossible to get close enough. “I am, I am, I am. And I have missed you desperately.”

Geralt’s hold tightened. 

“I have so many questions.”

You pulled away just far enough so that you could see his concerned face. Unable to help yourself, you traced a finger lightly over his bottom lip.

“And I will answer them all, my love.”

—

She looked very nearly the same, Geralt thought. She was thinner around the edges, a few more grim lines around the corners of her mouth. But she was still the woman that he knew and loved. 

He couldn’t stand the quiet, even as brief as it was, as they climbed the short flight of stairs to a small cottage. Geralt recognized it as one of the first homes that she had ever brought him to years before. In a deal gone wrong, she had been the one to save him from a band of thieves. She brought them there where he insisted that he didn’t need rescuing. They’d argued over several bottles of mead until she had asked him a question. Would he rather return to the town or retire to her bed? It had been a simple decision.

There was only a thin layer of dust on the furniture and she removed it with a flash of her hand. The other was still held tightly in his. She glanced shyly over her shoulder at him and he felt a tightening in his chest. 

“I don’t know where to begin,” She confessed. 

“The end,” Geralt answered, sitting down and pulling her along with him. “I watched the life fade out of you.”

“You did,” She nodded and squeezed his hand. “I was dead. But the dagger was coated in the vampire’s blood.”

Geralt’s head fell into his hand with an anguished moan. 

“How could I have been so foolish?” He groaned. “I should have brought you with me.”

“The mountain was crumbling beneath your feet, Geralt,” She said easily, her hand patting his. “There was no time.” 

Geralt closed his eyes. She always said his name with the greatest softness. It turned his insides out and he fought to sit still beside her on the velvet chaise. Shaking his head, he continued with the questions that seemed to be growing in number. 

“How did you get out?”

“Stubborn old sorcerer,” She huffed. “And I thought you had an attitude problem.”

Geralt ignored the jibe, more focused on the man in question.

“What was he doing there?”

“He had sensed the death and destruction the same as you and I and thought that maybe he could help,” She said. “Instead, he found me.” 

“Why didn’t he bring you to me?” The first note of frustration leaked into Geralt’s words. He had been so close to escaping the torture that was his life for the last month. If only he would have brought her body back with him.

“I was unconscious,” She shook her head. “It wasn’t until a week later that I was coherent enough to explain my story to the sorcerer. He was able to reverse the effects of the vampire’s blood, but it left him totally drained. He had no choice but to stitch up my wound from the blade and let it heal naturally.”

Geralt let out a low acknowledging “hmm” and her eyes narrowed.

—

A flash of annoyance flared up in you. Geralt’s disapproval was evident in his face even if it didn’t look much different than usual.

“What did you expect me to do?” You frowned. “Travel dozens of kilometers in the hopes of finding you before I keeled over?”

Geralt shook his head and sighed. 

“No, that is not what I meant,” He said. “And the last thing I want to do now is argue.”

Geralt’s yellow eyes landed on you and heat pooled low in your stomach. 

“And what would be at the top of your list?” You bit your lip. 

You watched with glee as Geralt’s fair skin darkened with blush and he sighed again, heavily. 

“I still have questions,” He said.

“Of course,” You slipped closer to him, letting your hand rest on his thigh. It was then that you knew just how much he must have missed you. You had barely gotten started and a smile was tugging at his lips. 

“Impatient as always,” Geralt’s voice gave away the intensity of his emotions. It had grown husky with need and the sound went straight between your legs. 

Your fingers tapped along his thigh as a grin spread across your face. 

“I haven’t the faintest idea of what you’re talking about, Ger,” You brushed your nose along his jaw in a delicate, feminine motion. “Ask your questions.”

Your breath along his neck made him shudder and the satisfaction made your skin warm. He turned toward you completely so that his chest brushed against yours. Unable to resist now, you slid your hand up his shoulder and into his hair. The grey strands were thick between your fingers and the noise that Geralt made deep in his chest when you tugged on them nearly set you on fire. 

“Those questions?” You repeated breathlessly. 

“You’re distracting me,” He growled. 

“How very horrible of me,” You bit at his bottom lip. Victory was yours when you felt Geralt’s hands on your waist, warm and tight. But then they gripped too tightly and pushed you several feet away on the couch. 

“Geralt!”

“I believed you were dead,” He spoke softly, gently. “Questions first.”

“Of course,” You placed your hands in your lap, cheeks burning. Geralt cleared his throat and you glanced up at him. 

“And then distractions.”

You laughed loudly and the motion made your ribs ache. You rest a hand there absently. But nothing was missed under the witcher’s gaze.

“You are still in pain,” He frowned.

“Rarely,” You said dismissively. 

“Tell me about your healing,” Geralt commanded. 

“It was maddening,” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t do well cooped up.”

Geralt didn’t find your comment as amusing as you did, so you continued quickly.

“We were in a small hut off the main road. I could hear wagon after wagon go by but do nothing but lay in bed,” You looked out the window, the memories still clear in your mind. “Vampire blood is poisonous, you know that. It eroded my veins as it flooded my system. You would think that would’ve been the painful part, but it was growing them back that was much worse.”

You glanced over at him then, at his stony face.

“You don’t want to hear of this,” You told him.

“I want to know everything.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed yourself off of the plush cushions. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you turned your back to Geralt as you contemplated what you were willing to share. It did him no good to hear of your pain. You turned only when Geralt repeated your name for the second time.

“Didn’t we agree a long time ago that there would be no secrets between us?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Even ones that would hurt us both?” You whispered. 

“Especially those.”

“You are not an easy man to live with,” You huffed.

“And you are not an easy woman to live without.”

Geralt’s words came through gritted teeth and stopped your pacing. It was better that way. The rug couldn’t take much more wear.

“Oh, my love,” You buried your face in your hands. 

“Come here,” He said softly, his hand reaching toward you. You took it gratefully, sitting between his legs as you rest your head against his knee. Geralt moved his hand to your hair, brushing it away from your face in a familiar motion. His gaze was impossibly impatient as he looked down at you. 

So, you continued on. 

—

Geralt himself wasn’t sure why he was so determined to hear the story of her pain. She was right in that it would only torment the both of them. Yet, he had to know. He had to know every minute of the time spent away from him. Agony or not. 

She looked up at him tenderly, even if her eyes were a little sadder than before. Geralt trailed his thumb over her jaw before resting it along her neck. His stillness a sign to go on. 

“The sorcerer had to rebuild two ribs and part of my lung,” She said, voice detached as she listed her ailments. “After that and the vampire blood, he was exhausted. My flesh had to be sewn manually.” 

Geralt swallowed thickly and nodded. 

“Muscle takes a long time to heal,” He said. 

“Very,” She sighed. “And it’s been a decade or two since I’ve had to do it without magic.”

“Welcome back to the real world,” Geralt offered a grim smile. 

“What would you know about that?” She laughed, the sound melting over him like a warm breeze. “Witchers heal even quicker than mages.”

“All depends on the wound, love.”

He watched as she bit her lip and nodded. Geralt could see the exhaustion beginning to set in. She leaned her head more heavily against him, yawning. 

“How did you find me this evening?” He asked. 

Now, she grinned brightly at him and he thought his heart might actually stop in his chest. 

“You are revered, Geralt of Rivia,” She said proudly. “Your tales of plundering and monster killing are legendary, making you quite easy to find.” 

Geralt chuckled deeply.

“Is that so?”

Her smile widened. 

“Perhaps,” She said noncommittally. “Or maybe Jaskier has a bigger mouth than even you could imagine.”

Geralt huffed and leaned back into the plush cushions.

“I find that much easier to believe.”

He watched as she pushed herself to her knees, her elbows resting on his thighs. Her eyes practically glowed as she gazed at him.

“You know what I believe?” She whispered.

“What?”

“I believe that in this world or any other, my soul would find yours, Geralt of Rivia.”

Geralt closed his eyes, letting the emotion wash over him. Slowly but surely, that gnawing pit in his stomach was fading away. With every flash of her smile and touch of her hand, that pain that had become a part of them up on that mountain was shrinking. 

His eyes shot open when he felt her nuzzling his thigh. How he was supposed to resist her, he head no clue and, in truth, he no longer wanted to. So, instead of asking another question, Geralt slipped his hands into her hair, the silken strands soft in his fingers.

“Geralt.”

It was one word, two syllables. And all it would ever take to make him unravel. He shivered and a smile spread across her face. Her fingers were nimble as she unfastened his pants. In a hurried motion, she slipped her hand over his cock in a testing squeeze. 

Geralt hissed, his hips jerking immediately as pleasure shot through him. 

“You were never one to hesitate,” He leaned his head back, his throat tight.

“Why would I pause when I know what joy lies ahead?” She murmured, her hand moving in slow even strokes as he hardened further. 

Geralt cracked open an eye to look at her.

“Yours or mine?”

With a wicked grin, she rubbed her thumb over the tip and Geralt couldn’t contain his groan. 

“Both.”

“And for that I am grateful,” Geralt let out a shaky breath. He picked up his head just in time to see the first stroke of her tongue. Geralt cursed loudly, his hand clenching tightly in her hair. 

“So many things I missed,” She murmured, eyes focused on him. “But I have to admit that noise is high up on my list.”

Geralt didn’t have time to respond, before she slipped him into her mouth entirely. It took all of his strength to remain still as her tongue massaged his cock. Every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire while a bead of sweat rolled down his neck and disappeared beneath the fabric of his shirt. 

“Fuck,” He panted, his heels digging into the rug. 

Geralt watched in a mix of desperation and awe as she smiled around his cock, head continuing to bob at a rapid pace. Her fingers cupped him gently and he couldn’t contain himself anymore, his hips jerking and forcing his cock further down her throat. 

She spluttered for only a second, fingernails digging into this thigh. But then she moaned and quickened her pace. Geralt was coated in sweat, sweltering beneath her heated touches and his ridiculous clothing from the feast. 

His eyes pinched shut as she hummed around him, pleasure shooting through him. Geralt was suddenly very aware of just how close he was to finishing and the thought had him sitting up and taking her by the elbows. 

Her disappointment was obvious as he pulled her away and it made Geralt smile. The joy returned to her face when he placed her in his lap, a satisfied hum echoing deep in his chest. 

—

You had stayed alive for that smile. 

When you were on death’s door, weak and in pain, it was the thought of never seeing that smile ever again that pushed you through it. Geralt lifted you into his lap, settling you over him with ease.

The two of you paused as you looked at each other. Geralt’s light eyes had grown dark with desire and were watching you with an intensity that made you shiver. His hands wandered, seemingly unable to decide where to touch you. So, you eagerly took charge, pulling your dress off in a rush. Geralt let out a deep groan and your thighs squeezed together around him.

Your fingers were gentle but purposeful as they trailed over on Geralt’s stomach. Bunching the silken shirt in your hand, you pulled it over his head and let it fall to the side. The scars that marred his body still made your heart clench in sorrow. The pain that your witcher had endured. 

Geralt distracted you from your thoughts with a single touch. You shuddered beneath the gentle brush of his fingers over your ribs. 

“You have your own scars now,” He said softly.

You bit your lip and nodded, gently laying your hand over his. 

“But I’m alright,” You said, equally quiet. “I’m home.”

Geralt nodded and shifted underneath you, leaning forward to bring your faces closer together. 

“You are home,” He repeated, his voice deep and thick with emotion. 

It wasn’t a decision to kiss him. There were no thoughts or wondering. There was only the desperate need to tell him that it wasn’t the four walls around you. It was him. Geralt was home. 

In a loss of control and overwhelming love, your mouths weren’t gentle or slow. You took everything that he offered you until you were both out of breath. You bit at his bottom lip while your fingers tangled in his hair. Chests pressed together, Geralt’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, his warm skin sending shocks of pleasure through you. 

Your mouth moved over his face in reverent touches, sweet kisses dropped over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. 

“You will be the death of me,” Geralt’s strangled voice nearly made you jump it had been quiet for so long. 

You pulled away to frown at him.

“Don’t say that.”

Geralt’s eyes were amused, but he nodded. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not allowed to die,” You added, raising your chin defiantly. 

“Rather hypocritical all things considered,” He arched an eyebrow.

“You are not allowed to die,” You repeated and poked him hard in the chest. Geralt took your hand in his, turning it over so that he could press a kiss to the palm of it. 

“I promise,” He looked up at you, nodding solemnly. 

“Thank you,” You sighed, body relaxing into his. Your chin rest on Geralt’s shoulder, the two of you content to hold each other. His hand smoothed over the bare skin of your back in slow, smooth strokes. It wasn’t for the fire that still burned low in your belly, you’d be tempted to fall asleep. 

Geralt must have felt the same way as it wasn’t long before his hands moved to rest on your waist. Kissing his shoulder, you gave a tentative roll of your hips. Your wet core rocked against Geralt’s hard cock and both of you groaned. With some guidance from your hand, it was easy to slip him inside of you and you gasped.

“Fuck,” Geralt hissed, his hands threatening to bruise your hips. “Don’t move.”

“What?” Your surprise was evident in your voice, fighting to follow his direction. It was something akin to torture feeling him inside you and being unable to do anything about it.

“Just give me a minute,” His chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat glistening. He pinched his eyes shut and shook his head. 

It suddenly clicked and it brought a small smile to your face. Carefully, to keep your hips still, you leaned forward and brushed his silver hair out of his face. 

“It’s been a while,” You murmured, your finger light as you swept it down his cheekbone and along his jaw. 

“Too long,” Geralt’s voice was tight and breathless with need. “I’ve missed you so much. Not just this, but-”

“Shh,” You soothed him with a gentle kiss, smoothing his hair with your hand. “I know, my love. I do. It’s okay.”

Geralt nodded slowly, his expression remarkably tender as he raised his hand to your cheek. After a moment of nothing more than soft touches and shared breath, a smile tugged at the corners of Geralt’s mouth. 

“You’re being quite patient with me,” He said.

You rolled your eyes and knocked your forehead into his. Your noses brushed against each other as your mouth found his in a wet kiss. His tongue gliding against yours as you rest your hands against Geralt’s chest.

“Please,” You whispered breathlessly. “Don’t make me wait a moment longer.”

Geralt’s hand ran up your back to tangle in your hair as he nodded imperceptibly. Your sigh of relief was drowned out by his moan as you rocked your hips forward. Your chest pressed into his as the two of you found your pace. 

It was a struggle at first, passion and love battling lust and need. The memories of being separated too close to the surface and frenzied touches only adding fuel to the fire. It took Geralt’s steady hand on your hip to keep you from ending things before they even started.

You let him hold you and guide you as you rocked your hips against his over and over. Your skin was too warm. Geralt was too warm. But it was the kind of heat that was worth melting for. Even his mouth was silky hot as it moved over your chest, nipping your skin and kissing your breasts. 

You nearly collapsed when his hand slipped between the two of you, his thumb finding your clit unerringly. Moaning, your back arched, your breath fighting to leave your chest. Your fingernails dug into Geralt’s shoulders.

“It’s alright,” His voice was thick with need. “Let go.”

“Geralt,” You whimpered. It was all so much. 

“I’ve got you, love.”

—

She was so still in Geralt’s arms that he would’ve been concerned if it weren’t for her steady breath along his neck. Still wrapped around him, her body was warm and soft against his. He shifted slightly and she groused, her face burying in further against his skin. 

“Not ready to let go,” She mumbled. 

“That’s more than fine,” Geralt said softly, a smile softening his features as his hand ran up and down her back. 

“Too comfy,” She added. 

Geralt chuckled.

“Your thighs are shaking,” He said, moving his hand over the quivering muscles in question. “I’ll take you to bed.”

She was too tired to protest, her arms limp around his neck as she cuddled into him. Geralt stood, the movement surprisingly graceful given the extra weight he carried. Especially considering his worry that his own legs might give out. 

Geralt carried her through the house and toward the bedroom, watching in amusement as the candles flickered to life in each room they passed through. He wasn’t surprised to see that every candle in the bedroom was already burning bright by the time he entered it. 

He carefully laid her on the bed, but she refused to relinquish her grip around his neck. 

“Said I wasn’t ready to let go.”

“Let me lock down the house for the night and then I’ll return to you,” Geralt nuzzled her cheek fondly even as he reached up to unclasp her hands. Her bottom lip came out in a pout and he watched as she waved her hand in an annoyed twitch. 

“There,” She said, looking at him with a satisfied smile. “The house is locked from top to bottom. Now, come to bed.”

Geralt rolled his eyes but sat beside her on the bed.

“I appreciate the added safety of your wards and enchantments, but I will sleep much better knowing everything is as it should be.”

Her frown dissolved and she reached a hand up to brush her knuckles over his jaw fondly. 

“We are both well and in bed,” She grinned. “Everything is as it should be.”

Unable to resist her request a second time, Geralt laid down beside her, shaking his head. They were both bare, not bothering with a sheet or modesty. There were no secrets between them. It was distracting as it was soothing. Geralt couldn’t help but reach out his hand to trace over her soft skin, following the curve of her breast down and over her hip. 

He let it rest there as he watched her blink slowly, fighting a yawn. He bent his head to press a light kiss to her lips, wanting to taste her just once more before he lost her to the claims of sleep. 

“I’m not ready,” Her voice was muffled as she spoke. 

“What now?” Geralt tried to sound annoyed but failed miserably.

“To sleep,” She shifted restlessly, turning onto her back and looking at him. “It’s nearly like saying goodbye.”

Geralt shared a small smile with her, a certain amount of satisfaction filling him with the knowledge that she felt the same. 

“I will be here when you wake,” He kissed her shoulder and laid his arm over her waist, ensuring that she would remain close throughout the night. 

“Good,” She sighed, body settling against his like it was meant to. 

Limbs became entangled and soft laughter flickered between them like the shadows on the walls. Her hand rest on Geralt’s chest, just above where his heart beat slowly. He watched with clear eyes as her eyelashes fluttered shut and her breath began to even out. 

Geralt had just decided to give himself over to sleep when a thought popped into his head that had him shooting straight up. 

“What is it?” She sat up beside him, her voice panicked. “What’s wrong?”

Geralt rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. 

“We left Jaskier at the feast.”

“Oh, fuck.”

—

**Epilogue**

Jaskier couldn’t see the magic, but he could hear it. Like the crackle of a fire. He glanced up from the table where he was sat, looking for who was responsible. The throne room had grown nearly empty, devoid of royalty and food, leaving the drunks and Jaskier.

He had just decided to give up on waiting for Geralt when he heard that sudden _pop_ , followed by footsteps. The witcher in question came around the corner, having the decency to look at least somewhat apologetic. 

“I was beginning to assume the worst, Geralt,” Jaskier stood. “What on earth was so important that it could have pulled you away from this splendid feast?”

Only a few paces behind the witcher, came the mage. 

Jaskier’s mouth fell open in surprise, a hand pointing at her. 

“You’re back!”

She smiled and took a look around the room.

“It’s barely midnight, Jaskier,” She said. “Rather impressive you’ve cleared out a room this size in that short of time.”

“You were dead!” 

“Barely,” The mage shrugged, still grinning. 

“I wrote a song about you!” Jaskier was striding quickly across the room, his voice pitched high. He watched as she tucked her hand in Geralt’s, her head on his shoulder. Jaskier couldn’t help but return her smile then. 

“I caught some of it before Geralt and I made our great escape,” She winked and plucked a piece of fruit from a forgotten plate. “It was a rather dramatic piece.”

“You died,” Jaskier repeated, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. “A pretty dramatic thing if you ask me.”

“And now I’m back,” She turned to Geralt as she spoke, her gaze soft. 

“I’m going to have to change the song,” Jaskier frowned. 

Geralt chuckled lowly.

“Since when have your tales held a scrap of truth?” He asked the bard.

“I’m as much of a fan of the melodramatics as the next person,” Jaskier huffed. “But I don’t think even I could get away with singing of your untimely death as you sit at the table five feet from me.”

“Oh, you never know, Jaskier,” She tilted her head. “Everyone will just assume the White Wolf has moved on to another mage.”

“Never,” Geralt said swiftly, his yellow eyes flashing. 

Jaskier watched in a mix of annoyance and approval as Geralt kissed the woman tenderly. Sighing, he put his hands on his hips and looked to the ceiling.

“Lord help me, everyone will know.”


End file.
